Four years and change later – A What's Behind Door Number Three? Future take

Summary: It's been four years and Paul is still madly in love with his Birdie. They've been married for a little over three years now and have two little baby chicks to complete their happy family. Then, one day, Bella goes back to school, leaving Paul alone to take care of their three-year-old girls. Things happen. Three short stories in one.
Rating: M
Beta: GeezerWench

Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable herein and I have no intention of profiting on my writing.
Author's note: A few days early. Merry whatever

Beware of the dreaded Penis people

"No."

Tiny fists pressed against a tiny waist.

"Now, look …"

A second pair of tiny fists against another tiny waist appeared in front of me.

"Nooo."

I was seeing double. I blinked and blinked, but there they were.

"But I …"

"Nonononono."

Two voices. Two tiny brunettes. Two pair of accusing brown eyes. Two of everything.

It was one too many.

"Oh, for fuck sake."

The overdramatic little shits gasped and grabbed their hearts. "You said a bad word. We're telling Mommy."

That's right. My wolfy super sperm got Birdie doubly knocked up and there I was, stuck with identical twin girls. The spitting image of their gorgeous Mommy, and I'll tell you what, I wouldn't have it any other way.

That didn't mean the two chicks weren't driving me out of what was left of my mind. Take that very moment for example. We were at the diner, and they 'had to go real bad'. But when I went to take 'em they refused to go into the bathroom. All 'cause of the Men's sign on the door. Fucking Quil. That's the last time I'm letting him babysit my girls.

It had all been Birdie's idea, of course. ''Cause Quil was so good with Claire." I tried to explain the difference, while not rolling my eyes too hard, that as she was his imprint he was wired to look after her. I really did try, but nah. The whole imprinting thing went over her head, same with Kim and Em.

What can I say? Being bound to a kid … yicked me the fuck out, but being in his head … It wasn't creepy at all. Oh, it was, no joke, but it wasn't. No more than growing up to fall in love with your babysitter and that always worked out so well in porn.

I digress.

"It'll be fun," she said. "What can go wrong?" she said.

Oh, Birdie, you shouldn't have asked that.

Clearly, the tale won't be an exact retelling. After all I only get secondhand info. The firsthanders are my babies, Quil's six-year-old imprint, and the Fuckup himself, or whatever he managed to choke out with my fist around his throat.

So here it goes.

It started out fine, I'm sure. Quil had brought Claire. Ava and Aya looked up to Claire like she was their big sister, and they played really well together despite the almost four year age difference. She was at ours all the time, more than she spent at home—maybe. And where she went, Quil went, but he had never been alone with all three before.

They had played house, hosted tea parties, hide and seek—the works. They had probably eaten enough sweets to literally rot their teeth out of their heads, but Quil never could deny Claire anything, and what she got, the twins wanted, and since they give banshees a run for their money in the volume department, they got it, too.

How did it start, you ask? I have no fucking idea. All I know is that it had something to do with a doll, potty training, and a faucet. And no, that doesn't clear it up at all. But anyway, I don't know how the subject came up, and I'm not sure I want to, but the three clues apparently lead to Claire telling Ava that Quil peed standing up.

Now, neither of my girls will rat on her sister, even if you bribe them with an endless supply of sugar cookies. Believe me I've tried, but they didn't keep secrets from each other. So, of course, Ava ran straight to Aya and told her the oh-so-interesting news. Aya, my curious little catbird, called bull and demanded proof.

This, Quil was very, very clear on, he did not give her, which was why he lived to see another day, but he popped the lid on the whole 'our bodies are different' can of worms and the dumbass stole the 'boys have a penis girls have a vagina' line from that annoying little fucker in Kindergarten Cop.

You know the one, his pop's was a Gyno or something, "He looks at vaginas all day long." And the actor was one of those poor bastards that never ages and look like they're still pre-pubes. Like that hobbit, that icey vampire girl… The tiny one… Oh, and Haley Joel Osment, but less scary.

Eh, I digress. Again. Anyhooooo, this time Ava was the one calling for proof. Little geniuses, I swear.

They totally get that from their mother.

Here is where it gets … close to homicidal, and by it I mean me.

Quil scratched that chicken-sized brain of his and decided that he would show them, without shoooooowing them, using a banana and a bagel. Yes, that's right. He went to the grocery store to teach my kids the difference between a man and a woman.

There are not enough words for how much I wanted to rip off all his differences and make him eat them.

Aya and Ava cried, 'cause why the fuck not? Aya hated 'stupid bagels' and wanted to be a banana instead, and Ava didn't want her privates to be a hole… 'cause holes were ugly, and she didn't want to be ugly…

At least that's what I think happened.

Between all the wailing and blubbering, it was hard to tell.

I think there might have been something about boys business being bigger and prettier and "that was just soooooo unfair," but I pretended not to hear. My babies are not allowed to think anything even remotely cock-shaped is pretty. Nope, not happening. I don't give a fuck if it's just a banana and that they're only three. Today it's bananas, tomorrow it's some asshole in the back of a car. Trust me, I know shit.

Well, back to the story. It was cheer-up time, and Quil decided the best way to do that was to, I shit you not, tell them that the bagel, aka the holey parts, could swallow the banana, aka the pretty parts, and then he went on to demonstrate this.

The monumental fidiot decided to let the foods round fourth base. He gave three girls with the combined age of thirteen a lesson in fucking Sex Ed.

The only reason he survived that little lesson was on account of Sam ordering me not to take his head off.

Either of them.

Of all the crazy going on in Quilville, where his mind went after that I … couldn't tell you if you paid me. Maybe he was worried about the girls interest in dicks, or maybe it was some last-ditch effort to save his own ass, but he told them if they got too close to one before they turned eighteen, they could 'catch it'.

Yes, he told my three-year-old daughters that they could grow a dick if they got too close to one.

This brought us back to here, to the fucking Men's Room with two hysterical girls who refused to go through the door for fear that they might grow a penis out of their privates.

I should have killed him.

My baby chicks were crying their eyes out, and I was seconds away from bawling myself. I reached into my pocket for my phone and dialed up my wife. "Birdie, I need you!"

The End

Lock it up, but don't forget to throw away the key

Tomorrow was Birdie's birthday, the big double deuces, and I had spent the whole day baking.

NOT!

I took a trip to the store and—bam—same spread in only a tenth of the time.

Sweeeeeet.

'Cause me baking … Not a good idea. Wouldn't want to kill anyone … on my wife's birthday. 'Cause I gotta tell ya, Quil was still hanging pretty fucking loose.

It was late by the time I had everything stashed away. Birdie was off with some study group being smart, or learning to be smart, or was it teaching others to be smart? I forget.

Whatever.

She was gone, which meant I was alone with the little she-devils. My girls, my loves. Birdie was the love of my life, there was no fucking doubt about that, but those girls—they were the love of my existence. My sole reason for being. They were also the reason I had to lock up every cookie, cake and sweet whatnot, because if I didn't, they'd stuff their little faces with whatever they could get their grubby hands on.

It was a talent, truly. They could sniff out anything containing even the tiniest granule of sugar from miles away. When it came to 'serts they were like tiny bloodhounds.

That part they got that from me.

I was locking up the cupboard when I heard Ava screaming. "Daddy! Help! The monstews awe twyna get me."

A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth, and while slipping the key into my back pocket, I turned towards her room. When we learned one baby was going to be two, the pack helped out with building an addition to the house, so the kiddies could have their own rooms. We had just gotten them repainted and let them choose their own colors. They both went with pink.

That's right.

Pink.

My baby girls' room looked as if Pepto Bismol had thrown up all over the walls.

They shared most nights, snuggled up together on either twin bed. Not tonight though, tonight Aya had decided she wanted to sleep in her own bed.

I sat down on the bed nest to my oldest, by four important minutes. "What's up, baby chick?" Her hair was a shade or two darker than Birdie's. I brushed it away from her eyes. "Bad dreams?"

Two fat tears fell down her rounded cheeks. "No," she hiccuped. "Monstews." She pointed a chubby finger at the closet. "He's in thewe."

"The monster is a boy?"

"Yeeees," she cried, "I saw the penis, Daddy."

Fucking Quil.

I pulled her up in my lap and held her close, her little body fitting perfectly in the nook below my chin. I inhaled the sweet baby smell and wondered just what to say to her.

"Want me to get your sister?" Seemed like the safest bet. It wasn't that I couldn't handle the crying. Def not. With three girls in the house, I had to listen to my fair share. It was just … every time I tried the comforting thing it kinda turned into the cheering up thing. Which kinda sucked when she was supposed to be sleeping. So if she wanted Aya, I'd get her, and they could comfort each other.

"Noooo." She sobbed. "Daddy scawe the monstew 'way."

That. Those words. That trust. I was six-feet-two but the way my baby chick looked at me made me feel more like twenty feet tall. "Anything for you, baby bird."

I pushed open the door and growled into the darkness. "You better run, 'cause the Big Bad Wolf is comin' for ya." I pulled on the string in the ceiling and the light inside of the closet turned on. "See. No more monsters."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy." Ava practically flew off the bed, giving me no other choice but to catch her. Pfft, like there ever was one. I lowered her to the floor and got down on my haunches. Her short arms couldn't reach all the way around me, so the hug was more Ava patting my back from my shoulders down to the middle of my ass. It was perfect. "I love you, Daddy."

My heart swelled and did a couple of somersaults inside my chest. Like I said, twenty feet tall. "I love you, too, Baby Bird. Now go back to sleep." I tucked her back into bed and brushed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Daddy," she whispered sleepily, clutching her pink flamingo.

"Night."

I waited until her breathing slowed, and I was sure she had gone back to sleep, before returning to the kitchen. A handful of beers, a triple decker sub, and a bag of Cheetos, and I was getting comfy in my favorite chair while I waited for the little woman to get back home.

There was fuck all on the TV and my eyes were beginning to droop. I was just gonna close them for a sec…

A crash woke me from my slumber and I fell face first to the floor. I was quick to get to my feet, still half asleep, looking around for the sound. "'s okay. I'm up. I'm up."

The noise was coming from the kitchen. At first I figured Birdie was home, scouring the fridge for a midnight snack. Maybe she dropped a glass, or tipped over the pitcher of water. She always was a little clumsy.

But, no.

Oh, no.

It was the thieving magpies eating through the entire contents of the very cupboard I'd locked an hour or so ago. My hand went to my back pocket and sure enough, the key was gone.

It was all becoming clear; Ava's nightmare, her not wanting me to get Aya, how quickly and easily she was comforted after a bad dream. Usually it would take two to three stories and holding her until she fell asleep. It was all a ruse to get the key to the birthday goodies.

"Sneaky little …" I watched them for a couple of minutes. Listened to their whispers, their hushed giggles.

Fuck, I must have been sleeping harder than I thought. Aya's highchair had been pushed up against the counter, and somehow, they had managed to get Birdie's footstool from the living room to the kitchen,

and used it to climb on so they could unlock the cupboard. From the looks of it, they had munched on every cake, took a bite out of every cookie—even the coconut ones they hated.

They had crumbs all over their pyjamases. Frosting handprints colored the white cabinet doors, and their little faces were the color of the rainbow.

I cleared my throat to get their attention and they just … froze. Ava, with her mouth full of carrot cake, had reached out to grab the last pack of Oreo's. She stopped mid chew, her hand hovering above the cookies. Aya, chomping on at least two peanut butter cups, had been trying to open a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, stopped pulling at the sound. The only things moving were their eyes as they tried to peak at me from the corner of their eyes, maybe to check if I was still there.

Like, what? If they didn't move, I couldn't see them?

"Oh, you are so busted, just wait till Mommy gets home."

Cue two trembling lips and eyes brimming with tears, "But, Daddy…"

The End

It's his party but I'll make him cry if I want to

aka The horrible tale of the missing cake

When we found out we were having girls, it was me who wanted to name our babies after their mother. Not her given name, but the name I had made up for her: Birdie. Ava, from the Latin avis, and Aya, from the Hebrew word A'ya. My baby birds.

How was I supposed to know naming them after demons would have been more accurate? I mean, I still could have named them after their mother. Beelzebub and Bela Lugosi. Uh-huh. Yup. Perfect fit.

They were like tiny devils, of the 666 variety.

Anywaaay.

It was Jake the Flake's birthday, and no matter how much I begged and pleaded, Birdie wouldn't let me out of it.

She was worried, for good reason, that no one else would go.

Since he decided to shack up with one of the Cullen's—did I call it, or did I call it—on Cullen Land no less, he wasn't exactly Mr. Popularity at the rez.

He claimed he couldn't stand to see me and Birdie together, but I could smell the bullshit on him from miles away.

It wasn't the only thing I could smell, if you catch my drift.

Eh?

Eh?

Eh?

Yup. Ewww indeed.

But I guess taste is like ass, split and full of shit. And it's not like either partner in that relationship could do better, so…. Mazel Tov, and all.

There better be cake, 's all I'm saying.

Anywaaaay.

Birdie was running late and had left me in charge of getting the Mini Monster's presentable. Like that was even possible.

Whatever.

We'd totally rocked bath time. So what if it took an entire bottle of baby soap? Nutella and banana sammiches stuck to 'em like flies on shit.

The bile green floor—sorry, lime green—was a little wet, but a couple of towels and presto dryo. The chicks were clean, and that's what mattered.

End of.

Wet socks suh-ucked. I shook my leg like a dog which did nothing to unwet them. Kinda hard when the water reached my ankles. That probs belonged in the bad column, huh? Pffft. Whatever. It would totally dry before we came back from the little party that shouldn't.

The baby chicks had a blast, though. All cute and soft, wrapped up in their fluffy bathrobes, they looked like brown-haired angels. That was until they started stomping and splashing around, like they were outside jumping in rain puddles and not on the linoleum, currently under two inches of water. The water sloshed over the threshold.

Wonder if I'll get in trouble for this?

It had to dry eventually. The floor would soak it up, right?

Ehhhhhh.

She did say she wanted to redo the bathroom.

Fuuuuuck .… I better clean this shit up before Birdie gets home.

Aya helped me clean up, she was little miss helper, as long as you turned it into a game. I strapped towels to our feet, and then we sang our hearts out. I was off key as fuck, Aya chirped happily, shaking her little butt while we skate-danced across the floor. We botched the lyrics and made up our own, and with every sweep of our feet we mopped the floor until it was … not as wet.

Close enough.

Ava wasn't as happy. I had taken away her new favorite toy and she knew to show she was pissed.

"Mean daddy." She gave me her best pout. Her face red and scrunchy. "No good suns abbich."

"Look at you, huh," I chuckled. "Who taught you to talk like that?" I picked her up and carried her to her room, the pink giving me heartburn.

"Gwampa."

Okay, so dear old FIL hadn't been my biggest supporter in the beginning. Nothing I did was good enough in his eyes, but who could blame him? I took his precious daughter and knocked her up on the first try. I would've hated me, too.

But since Birdie popped out the twins, me and Chief Dad got along just fine. So being called a "no good son of a bitch", and in front of my daughters, made me fucking furious. "So what else did Grampa Charlie have to say?" I ground out through a forced smile.

"You don't have to mawwy him just 'cause you pwe … pweg …"

Her trouble enunciating was too cute. I couldn't not laugh. Her brows drew together and I could tell a full-blown tantrum was coming.

No thanks.

"You been watching Mommy and Daddy's special film?" Get your mind out of the gutter. We don't have those kind of movies ... anywhere the kiddos could find them. But yeah, Charlie had tried to talk Birdie out of marrying me on our wedding day, but my girl had loved the fuck out of me from the very first innuendo, so the joke was on him.

Still … I got down to her level and did the forehead to forehead, eye to eye thing. "You know Grampa didn't mean that sh….uff, right? He and Daddy are best friends now." Maybe that was a slight exaggeration. But it was like Santa and the Easter bunny, you told kids what they needed to hear and let them figure out the truth on their own as they grew older. Parenting 101.

Putting her nose in the air, Ava waved her hand, dismissing me. "Whatewew."

Fucks sake.

I sighed. "Look, never mind. You gotta potty, brush your teeth and get dressed. We don't wanna be late to the party."

"No!"

Aya, who up until then had been busy detoweling, came to her sister's defense. "Yeah, Daddy. No!"

I felt a pressure build in the middle of my forehead, and my vision went wonky-like, a sign of an impending migraine, or a brain tumor. I needed a nap. "So you don't wanna go to the party, that it?"

"Nooooo!"

Of fucking course, it wasn't.

"Imma pwincess."

Oookaaay?

"Imma pwincess, too, Daddy."

"Whatever makes you happy." It wasn't the weirdest I heard come out of their mouths, so I just went with it and started prepping their toothbrushes.

"Nooooooooo." Two voices mingled and rose to a high-pitched shriek.

Banging my head against the sink repeatedly wasn't an option so I went with number two; asking what the fuck they wanted. "Daddy is a little confused right now. How about you tell me what's up."

"We pwincess." Ava spoke for the both of them, Aya stood by her side, nodding. "Pwincesses don't bwush de teef." My eyebrows spoke volumes. "Pwincess don't go potty."

"Yeaaaaah. No." I popped the childproof lock on the medical cabinet and fished around inside for some advils. "Princesses do brush their teeth, and they do go potty." I tossed a couple of pills into my mouth and swallowed them dry. "Trust Daddy, he knows his shit."

For once they didn't call me on my language, but gave me identical suspicious glances. "How do you know, Daddy? Do you know pwincessessesses?"

"Sure. Your Uncle Jake."

Ava gasped. "Weally?"

Aya's eyes got cartoonishly huge. "He has a cwown an' ewything?"

"You betcha." I nodded conspiratorially. "I heard it's small, though. Tiny even."

"Oh." The Terrible Twosome pouted for about ten seconds before the excitement over meeting a "real live princess"—note the sarcastic finger quotes—took over. Their pearlies were whiter and their bladders emptier in less time than it took me to say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Mmmm, I used to have a serious hard-on for that Mary Poppins chick.

What? I matured early.

Their dresses were frilly and pink, with a print of yellow ducks. They donned the clothing while I got ready myself, and then I just helped them button up in the back.

I pushed the tip of my tongue to the corner of my mouth when I tried getting my fat fingers to braid Ava's hair and put one of those metal clippy things in Aya's. "There, all done." Maybe the braids were a little crooked, and maybe hair stuck out this way and that, so what? They were still gorgeous. With the genes they were blessed with, how could they not?

On our way out the door, Aya stopped to remind me. "The pwesent, Daddy."

Yeah, I thought my presence would be gift enough. According to my girls, all three of them, I thought wrong.

What else is new, right? I went back into the kitchen to grab the receipt for a years' subscription of condoms and lube at the Undercover Condom Club. Birdie had stupidly left me in charge of the gift, and I hadn't known what to get him. A Google search and I found 14 Gifts Every Gay Man Actually Wants Santa to Bring on pride dot com. I chose number nine on the list. I thought all the different colors and flavors would add a fabulously festive flair.

I shoved the envelope into my pocket,texted Birdie that we were leaving for Jake's, and that she'd better get her fine ass over there. Pronto. 'Cause I couldn't be held accountable for anything coming out of my mouth if left alone for too long.

She texted back she was leaving in a few, and we were finally, finally on our way to pick up my brother and his wife.

Birdie's truck had met its maker around the time the twins were born, and since Jake had been a pussy about fixing it, and we needed more room to fit the four of us, we let the old rust bucket become a garden ornament. The new truck had a back seat. Other than that, it wasn't much different than the old one. It drove like a nightmare, but it got us from A to B, what else was there?

We drove up outside Embry and Leah's house, which looked like most houses on the rez: one floor, wooden exterior, small porch, and in dire need of renovations. I honked once, counted to five, then leaned on the horn until my very pissed off sister-in-law appeared in the doorway.

"Stop the fucking honking, asshole."

"Rude!" I yelled after her as she waddled away. "Are you gonna let her talk to Daddy like that?" I asked the girls.

"Uh-huh."

"Wha….?" I placed my arm on top of the backrest and twisted around to look at the tiny Benedict Arnolds strapped in their booster seats. "Not okay. You're supposed to be on my side."

"Noooooo!" Aya shouted, making Ava giggle.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, grumbling under my breath just a little. "The cake better be worth it." I drummed my palms against the wheel, waiting, waiting. Waiiiiting.

"Daddy," Ava's shrilled from the back.

"Yeah?"

"When I gwow up Imma mawwy Uncle Embwy and Aunty Leah's baby," she declaredproudly.

"You can't," I shook my head at her, "he's your cousin." I pretended to pout. "Besides, baby chick, you promised Daddy you were never getting married. You were gonna live at home forever and ever and take care of your old dad, weren't you?"

"Noooooo!" she shrieked happily. Aya giggled next to her.

I snorted. "Thanks, baby."

I was bored as fuck and seriously considering a repeat of the honk-honk from a lifetime ago—that was how much time had passed since Leah disappeared back inside of her and Embry's house—when they came shuffling out. They closed the door without locking it; no one in La Push was stupid enough to break into a house belonging to one of the Pack. We might not advertise what we were, but people weren't stupid. They knew we were different and not to fuck with.

Embry held his hand at the small of Leah's back as he herded her giant body over to my truck. She was six months pregnant and looked about ready to pop at any second, and she had three months left.

I rolled down the window, "You're sure you're not having quintuplets?" Sure looked like it from where I was sitting. Embry gestured with his hand underneath his chin, the universal sign for STFU, so I did. See, I'm no asshole.

Embry opened the passenger door for Leah and went to help her into the seat, but she wasn't as maneuverable as she once had been, and with swollen and aching joints, she had trouble maneuvering her much larger form into the cab of the truck.

"Babe …" Embry hesitated, not wanting to wake the beast. "I'm not sure how to get you inside the cab."

I choked on a breath, trying not to laugh.

Two sets of glares turned my way. One resigned, the other red-faced with murderous intent.

"Just load her into the bed of the truck so we can get outta here."

"God, Paul, you son of a biiii—" Leah suddenly remembered the miniature humans in the backseat, and caught herself at the last second, "-itter person. Very, very bitter person."

I choked on a guffaw, which had the girls giggling their little asses off. I winked at Leah. "Nice save, SIL."

I took pity on them, which was the kinda man I was. Clearly. With a little push from Embry and a little pull from me, and presto lifto, she was sitting on the bench seat next to me.

Annnnnd we were on our way again; next stop—the cabin in the woods.

The party wasn't exactly what I would call in full swing when we got to the Land of the Dead. It was more … deserted than dessert, which fucking sucked if you asked me. Way to mistreat your guests. Not that he had any guests to speak of, and that was well deserved. The lack of desserts, though? Not cool.

The White Witch took Aya and Ava to the tree swing set up for them, but I kept my eyes on her. Any signs of Turkish Delight and we were outta there.

I was only there 'cause my wife made me, and 'cause the demonic duo liked playing with the human-sized icicles. Embry was there on account of him being the awesomest brother ever, after myself.

Obviously.

Leah? Beats me.

The Cullen's were there, all seven of them, but that had more to do with one of their own doing the nasty with the birthday boy than anything else.

Jake was not on anyone's favorite list lately, and he only had himself to blame. He's the one who left the pack 'cause Birdie didn't want him. 'It's too hard'. Cry me a river. Know what else was hard? Getting my wife to stop crying when her best friend didn't want anything to do with her if she wouldn't fuck him.

Maybe he hadn't said it in so many words, but that was the gist of it.

She forgave him when he came crawling back a couple of months later.

I didn't. I wouldn't.

Mess with my family and I'll fuck your shit up in ways that won't get you off.

He growled when I gave him the envelope. But don't think I missed him shoving it in his pocket for laters. No siiiiiir.

"Daddyyyyyyyyy!" Aya's scream stopped my heart then sent it into a tailspin.

"Paul, I'm so sorry!" Creature of the Night Barbie was all panic as she fluttered around my daughter who sitting on the grass, clutching her bleeding knee and crying her eyes out. "I took my eyes off her to help her sister off the swing. It wasn't even a second. I don't know how it happened."

"Look," I paused, hating that I was about to offer comfort to a moving rock that resembled a female. "It happens. If faster reflexes was all it took, they would never get hurt, but they do. It wasn't your fault." I made a lemon face, the words tasting like ass.

She gave me a grateful, watery—make that venomy—smile.

Having my babies bleed near bloodsuckers didn't exactly slow my heart rate. I knew that Dr. Dead had told their Mommy that out girls' blood smelled off. Guess it had to do with the wolfy bits. Still … I inspected the wound, and as usual it looked worse than it actually was. I wet a napkin with the water from my glass and used it to wipe away most of the blood, I blew cold air on her cut before taping over it.

I used to carry around condoms in my pocket, now I carried around band aids with little yellow duckies on them.

I kissed her cheek and told her to go play. I didn't kiss her knee. I stopped kissing their boo-boos when Aya had a bad case of the runs and pushed her ass all up in my face and asked me to kiss it better.

Not … Gonna … Happen.

What am I doing here? I was bored, there wasn't any cake, and Birdie wasn't there to see how well behaved I was. So what was the use?

"Hey, Paul?"

I so very blatantly ignored him by texting Birdie, telling her to hurry the fuck over there 'cause if the frigid Mr. Ice Queen had decided to start up a convo with me, I refused to be held responsible for any-fucking-thing I said to him.

"Hey! Paul?!"

I can't hear you.

"How does it feel instead of supporting your wife, she will have to support you?"

"Edward!" Mrs. Dracula gasped.

Okay, fine. "How's it feel? It feels freaking awesome, that's how." I grinned widely, making sure to flash a whole lot of white doing it. "I always wanted a sugar Mama."

"Well, in that case, I hope you enjoy disappointment," Frosty the No Man sneered. "Teachers are severely underpaid."

"Eh," I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a cheap thrill."

"Oh, I bet you are."

"Hello to you too, Joke." I cocked my head and eyed my former packmate. "Didn't see you there. Were you hiding up Abominable No man's ass?"

He bristled. Slightly.

"You think you're so clever," Chill Pill hissed. "Do you ever worry she's going to wake up one day and realize she is way out of your league?"

I chortled. "Birdie already knows she's better than me." I held my hands a couple of feet apart. "Like way. Doesn't matter though, 'cause I can do something no one else can."

"And that would be?" he snarked with attitude.

"Make her happy." For once in my life there was no bullshitting. "And that's something you Ass Packers and Butt Crackers can't do."

It was an ultimate staredown, one I was about to win. Of course. But it got interrupted when my chicks came a-running.

"Hey, Uncle Jake, Daddy says you a pwincess." My curious cat started.

"Yeah, Uncle Jake," Ava continued. "If you a pwincess, whewe awe you cwown?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart, you don't wanna see that. It's up Edweird's ass."

The two scandalized gasps were expected, what came next, not so much.

"Mommy, Mommy," Ava tattled. "Daddy said a sweaw."

I closed the distance and she was in my arms in no time at all. "Fuck, Birdie, I missed you." I squeezed the breath out of her, and kissed her until I saw those twinklies everyone was talking about. All too soon, I pulled back a little to meet her eyes. "Please tell me you brought cake."

The End

A lullaby (A mini unbeta'd bonus for ya)

"Hush little babies, don't say a word, daddy's getting lucky or haven't you heard

If that luck now don't run out, daddy's gonna make you a brother, no doubt

Now if there won't come a brother this time, I'll keep on trying till I'll run out of rhyme

When Momma is baking a brother for you, it won't be long till I have more kids than just two

So if you promise to fall asleep real quick, I'm sure that will do the trick

A goodnight kiss to give me some luck, and I'll give your Mommy a great, hard fu…"

"Paul!"

"Sorrrrrrry."

Thank you for reading